The Dream
by Yeghishe
Summary: Regency. Alternate Universe. Told in glimpses, diary entries, letters, and dreams; Hermione comes to terms with marriage to a deeply passionate, yet desperately confusing man. Companion to The Farce.
1. Glimpse: When Love Beckons

**Kahlil Gibran said of Love:**

**When love beckons to you follow him,**

* * *

November 21st, 1814

* * *

The teacup clattered as the young woman replaced it on its saucer in haste. "Severus Snape is entering into matrimony?"

Minerva McGonagall shifted in her seat. "Not precisely. His mentor, Albus, contacted me to say that he is looking for someone suitable."

Hermione Granger turned that thought over in her mind, trying to reconcile the image of the taciturn older man he appeared to be in his pictures to an amorous fool like Ronald in pursuit of a wife. Something burned within her, regret perhaps, or betrayal. It was foolish to mourn his bachelorhood. He hadn't remained unattached in some sort of juvenile pact with her, as she eschewed her own suitors. Her uncle was getting more and more insistent, and she felt her own freedom drawing close with the passing of her twenty-second birthday that past September.

"Hermione?" Minerva touched her arm.

She blinked, "I'm sorry; what was that?"

Minerva's cheeks looked quite pink as she cleared her throat. "I asked if you would consider his suit."

"W-what?"

"I know how much you admire him," Minerva hurried to make her case. "You wrote rolls and rolls of parchment detailing your rebuttals to his experiments. You beg me to send you his potions essays and were positively giddy when you found out that he and I are acquainted."

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "Minerva, he doesn't have any idea who I am and… well… he is wealthy and a war hero…" She trailed off rather miserably.

"Well, it won't be easy," Minerva agreed. "He is known to be a proud, unpleasant sort of man, but he is quietly passionate and fiercely loyal. You could do worse."

Hermione took a few deep breaths. "You are saying you would like to arrange a marriage between _Severus Snape_ and _me_?"

"Yes, there is nothing for it; I think you would be well matched, and I know you aren't interested in those boys who hound your steps." Minerva waited hopefully. "You can take some time to think about it, if you like."

Hermione took a deep breath, "I don't need time. My answer is yes."

Minerva's smile lit up her face. "Wonderful! The poor boy has been alone for so long."

Hermione flooed back to Granger House in a daze. Marry Severus Snape? The idea was almost too fantastical for her to comprehend.

She pulled the stack Potions Quarterly pamphlets out from her small desk and flipped to the well-worn page of Severus Snape's last essay, a very technical article about the use of chemistry sets in addition to caldrons. Next to his name was a moving picture; his expression didn't change except for one dark eyebrow arching upward. His nose was prominent and looked as if it might have been broken and set badly at some point; a deep line ran between his eyebrows, and lines bracketed his thin lips. His hair was limp and hung loosely, brushing his shoulders. The image looped, and he arched a brow at his future wife.

* * *

_____The Chapter titles are line by line quotes from Kahlil Gibran's magnificent book The Prophet._

___Edited for grammar, capitalization & spelling on April 4th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid,_ who is giddy].  


_Hidden Jane Austen quote is from Part 3, Chapter 17 of Pride and Prejudice. That one is for you A Pirate By Any Other Name. ;]  
_

_This is a companion piece to The Farce which tells Severus Snape's side of this little tale._


	2. Letter: Hard & Steep

**Though his ways are hard and steep.**

* * *

November 27th, 1814

* * *

Hermione rewarded the grumpy looking Tyto Tenebricosa a slice of bacon off of her own plate. It ruffled its sooty grey feathers and looked slightly mollified.

_Mr. Granger,_

_I request the liberty of calling on you and your family this early December to conclude our negotiations and finalize my engagement to your niece, Hermione Granger. _

_Sincerely,_

_Master Severus Snape_

It was written in a small, spiky hand with a slight slant to the right and thick down strokes. She touched the modest flourish he had added to his surname. He had written it with his own hand not more than a few hours before. She looked at her name. Seeing his intent written out in his own handwriting made her heart beat a little faster. It seemed that this dream was becoming reality rather quickly. Hermione felt that she had a better understanding of Ginevra's fascination with young men, now. She supposed the slightly ill feeling settling in her stomach could potentially be compared to butterflies. Hermione tapped the parchment with her wand and was dismayed to discover that it could not be copied. Feeling foolish, she carried it off to her uncle.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization & spelling on April 4th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who sees Hermione's romantic soul]. _

_Tyto tenebricosa is also called the Sooty Owl._

_According to my research, a slight forward slant (apparently termed AB) carries these connotations: judgment rules, rarely shows emotions, and withholds emotions._


	3. Glimpse: Yield

**And when his wings enfold you yield to him,**

* * *

December 3rd, 1814

* * *

Hermione had scrubbed her hands as well as she could, and yet the dark spots refused to be completely erased. She twisted her fingers in agony. He would be arriving any moment, and she probably looked like she had been roughhousing on the parlor rug, as her aunt was fond of saying. She turned over the book she had been reading, a copy of Al-Ghazali's Kimiya-yi Sa'ādat, borrowed from Minerva for the thousandth time.

"Hermione, be a dear and try not to say anything that will put Master Snape off his tea," her uncle laughed, as though he had made a joke. "I'd like to delay the inevitable for as long as possible."

Hermione tightened her hand around her book. She had heard the demeaning diatribe before. Her uncle never tired of explaining all of ways that her parents had damaged her chances of making a good match. She had the misfortune of being eager to learn and possessing an inquisitive mind.

The butler announced Master Snape, and Hermione felt her heart rate speed up.

He swooped into the room; there was no other way to describe his tall, confident walk. He was all angles and dark lines, tugging his gloves off with slender, elegant hands. She wondered if she would recover from her astonishment at finally seeing him in person.

"Master Snape, a pleasure," her uncle twittered.

He glanced down at the balding man and then looked passed him, as though he was of no account. His impossibly dark eyes traveled over her, coming to rest on her hair. Was he finding fault with her already? She fought the urge to run her hands over her hair in an attempt to smooth it.

"Master Snape, may I introduce my niece, Miss Hermione Granger."

She stepped forward, drawn by his magnetism. Now that he was in the house, it seemed as though everyone had reordered themselves to revolve around him.

"Charmed." He bowed and reached out, and she hurried to meet him halfway.

His large hand was slightly cold, but the touch of his skin sent a pleasant warmth skittering through her.

"Master Snape, welcome." A hundred questions raced through her mind about his work and her theories, but she squashed them down. "Please, sit."

Perhaps the fates would be merciful, and she would make it through this meeting without making a complete fool of herself.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization & spelling on April 5th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who shares my feelings about redundancy].  
_


	4. Diary: May Wound

**Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.**

* * *

December 3rd, 1814

You have been my constant companion, journal, through the years, and now I have a new chapter to begin with you. Severus Snape arrived at Granger House today. I am not sure where to begin. I am completely overcome. Nothing could have prepared me for our meeting. His picture didn't do him justice at all. It couldn't capture his height or the way he fills up the room with his silence. His voice is surprisingly deep, but he seldom speaks. His eyes are indescribable, very dark, perhaps black, and very striking in his pale face. He watches everyone very closely, but I could not find time to truly make a study of him because he watches me ceaselessly.

I reread what I have written and I feel very foolish, but I am at a loss as to how I might force myself to regain my composure.

We are engaged, and I may soon sign my name Hermione Snape, but my uncle is forever cautioning me against any appearance of intellect. He reminds me that my future is not yet secure and that Severus may yet dissolve the match.

Oh, if only we had met as academic colleagues. I long to open my notes and hear his thoughts on my theories. I want to learn what new experiments he is postulating. If only I had some assurance that Severus would welcome a well-educated wife. I can only wait and worry.

* * *

December 5th, 1814

He is so quiet and reserved. I scarcely know what to think of him. He looks continually displeased, but then he will defy my understanding by offering some comment or complement that only confuses me. The more my uncle talks at him the deeper the lines around his lips get, and I would hazard a guess that it is only politeness that keeps Severus from silencing him. There are times when I wish Severus would succumb and hit him with a silencing hex. He continues to watch me.

* * *

December 7th, 1814

I am mortified. He has found out how unladylike I am. Thomas _would_ challenge me to a race in the garden and like a ninny I would accept. I was beyond mortified when I saw him by the porch steps, a great dark bird waiting for us. Then he questioned me about my schooling and I couldn't think of two sensible words to put together. It is so hard to pretend that I am in possession of a decorous and maidenly mind when being questioned about my education and longing to throw off the cloak of modesty and demand he look through my arithmancy calculations.

And yet, I have more to tell. He followed me through the arbor we cultivate for seasonal pine and holly. He came so closely behind me that when I turned I could feel his breath on my cheek and see the small lines around his eyes. I confess I had the most awful urge to do something drastic like throw my arms about him. My aunt would call me a wanton hussy.

* * *

December 8th, 1814

Will my anguish never cease? I cannot guess how he found me out, but he managed to catch me at my Thursday chore at the Fantasticus Flobberworm. To make everything simply horrid, Ronald Weasley had cornered me behind the counter and was demanding all sorts of odious things from me. Severus heard it all: from the demand to end my engagement, to Ronald's insinuation that I harbor hidden feelings for him.

Severus, however, was magnificent. I will never forget the turn of his countenance when he demanded, "If Ronald _must_ breathe that he do it elsewhere, for his breath was as repulsive as his manners." I saw the command he must have over a classroom; his voice was like a lash, and also his anger, white-hot and terrifying, yet tightly controlled.

Severus brought me home in his carriage afterwards. He was very sarcastic and rather rude during our ride and asked about how I came to be tending the shop. I had the unfortunate task of explaining Romilda Vane's London beau and my role in watching the shop for an hour or two every week. When he asked me about Ronald, I had a moment of pure panic. What if he thought that I somehow returned Ronald's misguided feelings? I might lose Severus before I ever had a chance to truly have him. I imagined how my aunt and uncle would despise me if he were to cast me off for such a reason. He seemed surprised to know that I had rebuffed Ronald on several occasions, but I hardly thought it signified.

I have bound myself to him as surely as if we had made a vow. I cannot imagine ever learning to have such great affection for another man.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation & spelling on April 9th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who recognizes Hermione's innocence]. _

_Gentle reader, what do you think about the diary format? _


	5. Letter: Believe in Him

**And when he speaks to you believe in him,**

* * *

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I feel quite doubtful, my dearest one, as to when this letter may be finished. I have begun it more than three times but have been interrupted, for I can command very little quiet time at present, and when I return I cannot make heads or tails of what I have written. Mother continually requires my attention in some matter or other until I am completely spent. I must begin again for I long to see you and know that you will be glad to hear from me. I am truly impatient to write to you about the most interesting things I have learned from my own brother. I will lay them before you to hear what you have to say on the matter._

_I was certainly a good deal surprised at first, as I had no suspicion your having another suitor. Ronald has been so sure of your affections, and I am sure I had no idea of there being another person who held your interest. I have no scruple in writing to you plainly, for you are like a sister to me. Ronald has thought himself so much in love with you and has said that you are as attached to him as he was to you._

_My dear Hermione, I am ready to laugh at the whole idea, and yet it is no laughing matter to have been so mistaken as to your feelings. I know now, as I begin to recall, the times that you tried so carefully to tell me that you were less than interested in my brother, despite your childhood friendship. I had thought at the time that you could be persuaded to give him a chance to secure your affections. I had no doubt that your attachment would increase with opportunity. Oh how wrong we all were, it seems._

_I feel differently every moment and am sure that what I am writing will not be of the smallest use to you, nor do I think you will be able to interpret my rambling. I could lament in one sentence and laugh in the next._

_Of some things I can be sure, as father speaks so highly of him: His_ _(you know of whom I write) situation in life has much improved since the end of the war. He has no family to speak of, and I have not heard anything mentioned about his friends, although one cannot argue about the superiority of his connections. You have no doubt of his having remarkable abilities; he has proved it at Hogwarts College of Magic, and he is, I dare say, such a scholar as my agreeable, but idle brother would ill bear a comparison with. These things I know you will agree, but I beg you to have a care my dear one, and remember his casual duplicity in the war. _

_I must wait and write more on this matter later, after I have a chance to speak with you. Put my mind at ease, if you can, Hermione._

_I bestowed a visit_ _on the Browns two days past. Lavender has a shocking new pelisse of scarlet Merino cloth, buttoned down the front and up the arm with small gold buttons. I was content with my dark pelisse very much indeed, color, make, and everything. It has only been made over once, but Lavender pointed it out most cruelly. As a result, I have resolved to have a new white one made up at any cost. Our visit was interrupted by Mrs. Brown, who ran round the room after her drunken husband for above half an hour. His avoidance, and her pursuit, with the probable intoxication of both, was an amusing scene. I know that I took too much pleasure in it after Lavender's pointed comments about my state of dress._

_That is all I may write for now as mother is calling again. Write as soon as you may and come to call sooner. It has been too long since I had the pleasure of seeing you. _

_Yours affectionately,_

_Ginevra Weasley_

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation & spelling on May 20th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who understands that Ronald is a bonehead]. _


	6. Glimpse: His Voice

**Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.**

* * *

Hermione spent most of her day decorating the house for the upcoming holidays. The eldest cousin, Fanny, was far too grown up to be bothered with the fuss of a rural country Christmas. At first she enjoyed the help of the younger cousins, the twins Imogen and Elizabeth, and the young man of the house, Thomas. While their enthusiasm had been warming, their short attention span was not. Hermione's uncle had long forbidden magic to be preformed in front of his progeny, so the tasks of arranging the heady scented greenery and lining the windows with candles charmed to burn without setting anything else on fire took twice as long. Many of the charms had to be cast silently and covertly in order to escape the detection of the sharp-eyed children.

Finally alone and nearly finished, Hermione allowed her mind to wander as she bound the bundles of rosemary, bay, holly, laurel, mistletoe, and of course, spicy evergreen with red ribbons.

Master Snape had been gone most of the morning with no word as to where he was off to or when he would return. Hermione imagined him tracking down an ancient and complicated source for a new article. Perhaps a meal with an eminent scholar to discuss academic…

Her musings were interrupted by the gentle click of the door. The man himself appeared as though summoned by her thoughts.

After a moment of un-surety, Hermione ventured, "Did you have a pleasant day, Master Snape?"

He sat very close to her, their knees almost touching.

Hermione swallowed and focused on the pale, slender hands folded in his lap. "Tea?"

He inclined his head, the dark curtain of his hair brushing over his cheek. The conversation was slightly stilted. She was initially surprised when he mentioned meeting Minerva, but realized that it made sense that he should call on his acquaintances. She swallowed nervously, acutely aware that she had no idea what to talk about or how to meaningfully break into the silence. The clink of china and sips of tea punctuated long pauses. His dark, burning eyes did not waver from her face. His intensity caressed her like the burning of a flame: heated and dangerous, but pleasant.

"I brought you something."

Hermione fumbled and set the cup she had been cradling down with a clink. In her haste, the pile of crisp-smelling rosemary tumbled unheeded from her lap. "You brought me a present?"

With a flick of his wand Severus sent a coral package into her hands: a book, wrapped in a luxurious fringed shawl.

Unsure what to expect, she turned it over to read the title: Alchemical Corpus. It was a freshly published masterwork, one she had resigned to a long wait before reading, as there was no extra money for expensive magic texts in this house. The parlor faded from her mind as she eagerly began devouring the pages.

At every turn Severus Snape astounded her, contradicting her expectations. It seemed that he was determined to undermine the initial stories she had been told of his character. He was like a book she was determined to read through, over and over, until she understood it clearly.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation & spelling on July 2nd, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who agreed to get out her rusty red inkpen just for me]. _


	7. Letter: Crowns & Crucifies

**For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.**

* * *

_I am very much obliged to you, my dear Ginevra, for your letter, and I hope you will write again soon, that I may know your abundant family to all be happily at home this holiday season._

_I am excessively diverted to hear about Lavender's scarlet pelisse, although her color choice rather surprised me. I thought I recall her telling me that scarlet was out of fashion this season. You know I care nothing for paraphernalia of that sort. I am sure a white pelisse would look very well on you but I will not venture to offer more than my faith in your ability to choose your wardrobe. You are lovely in anything._

_Now, my dearest Ginny, I will begin a subject, which I know you are most anxious to hear about. You frighten me out of my wits by your reference to your brother's affections. The affection of your family has always given me the greatest pleasure. As it pertains to Ronald though, I am very sorry if I have given rise to a belief of more than I have felt. I shall reproach myself for not having been more guarded in my address. I am grieved to cause pain to anyone, but I have endeavored to be forthright in all my feeling._

_As to the gentleman who has gained prominence in my life, you must allow that I can depend on my own opinion, and no feelings but my own can direct my decisions in this matter. As to comparing your brother and Master Snape, I declare that I must not. They cannot be held to the same standard so I will beg your leave to say no more about their characters in that light. I could sooner compare the earth and air. I am convinced of my present feelings and am certain of my future happiness. In that you will have to depend, my dearest friend._

_I know you have not met him yet but I hope that you will soon, perhaps as part of the holiday festivities. I also desire that you will temper your father's feelings toward him on account of his wartime services for the time being, and decide on your own the measure of his character. With me he acts in such a manner of gentle civility that I am undone by his address. I can only assure you that I am quite happy._

_I hope to come to call soon. My uncle and aunt, however, find endless chores to keep me occupied. They disapprove of magic on principle, but they are not above accepting the improvements to the household that it offers. You know that many Muggle households employ some sort of enchanting services, especially for decorating or hosting. Even a magic-shy Muggle can accept the services of a charity case to impress their friends. Your family has no conflict in this area, I am sure, as you all embrace magic._

_The Misses Abbot came to call on my aunt yesterday. They had much news of Mrs. Whitby and Mrs. Denham - the first of whom took a long ride yesterday morning, and fainted away in the evening, and the second who walked down from Oakham Mount in search of a ring she lost last autumn. I could hardly keep countenance; as you know, we just had a very thick layer of new snow the evening before. I can hardly guess at what Mrs. Denham's son is about, to allow his elderly mother to traipse about the countryside on such an errand._

_No more at present: my aunt is calling._

_All my love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation & spelling on July 4th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who is having a fabulous independence day]. _


	8. Diary: Growth & Pruning

**Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.  
**

* * *

December 10th, 1814

I hardly see him. My days are full of the hope that he will be able to spare a few moments in conversation with me. My uncle consistently monopolizes him when we are in company. Severus comes and goes as he pleases at odd hours. The servants tell me that he is sometimes heard in his chamber, speaking to others. I suspect that he has hooked up his fireplace to the floo network without my uncle's knowledge. It amuses me to realize I am living vicariously through Severus's quiet rebellions.

I read and reread his articles and the book with which he gifted me. Inside the front cover he wrote: _To Miss Hermione Granger From S. Snape_. I often catch myself staring at the dark scrawl for long minutes.

Mrs. Hermione Snape.

Severus and Hermione Snape.

But now I am just being puerile.

* * *

December 11th, 1814

I can't help but think of him as a sort of dark knight, consistently defending me without any fanfare. I especially enjoy thinking of my uncle as a tired old dragon belching smoke, while Severus, in his black wool armor, fends him off.

We received our invitation to the Weasley's solstice party for ten days hence. I always go, and it is one of the few times I am able to see Ginevera since my uncle has never approved of the Weasley family, especially Ronald. I suppose it would not make a difference if they were magical or not; their standing is too low and their fortune too small.

My uncle refused to allow my attendance this year, on the grounds of impropriety, and I lost my temper. Severus entered the parlor just as I began to argue in earnest. I regret showing him my temper, although he did not seem displeased with my childish display.

Not only did he defend me but also Arthur Weasley, who it seems had a greater part to play in the war than my uncle obviously thought.

Mr. Weasley is so modest, and the histories are still being written, but my family is woefully ignorant. Few people who know Mr. Weasley would guess from his artless manner that he arranged the use of the Isle of Elba for the deportation of the Dark Lord. I could not have been more surprised at Severus's passionate defense, especially since I know he does not think much of Ronald.

The best is yet to come: he has agreed to accompany me to the party, and I am anxious to introduce him to Ginny. I know she will not see him as I see him, but I hope to not receive any more letters that hint I am making a mistake.

* * *

December 12th, 1814

Nothing more has been said about our engagement. Severus seems content to allow this month to pass with no discussion. I know my aunt is eager to have the date set and begin packing my bags. I sometimes wonder who is more anxious, she or I. The cousins seem mostly oblivious to what is happening. They don't understand that Severus is here to take me away. I am ashamed to admit that they will be the only members of this household that I will miss.

I wonder what it is that keeps him silent. He must know by now that I am his for the taking. I can only hope that whatever is keeping him from finalizing our mostly unspoken agreement is nothing to do with me and is a product of other circumstances.

He spent much of the day in the parlor with me. We spoke little, as we were both reading. He watched me when he thought I wasn't looking. At dinner he was quiet as usual, but deflected all of my uncle's barbs and comments.

My affection for him only grows.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation & spelling on July 9th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who is enjoying her summer]. _


	9. Letter: Ascend

**Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,**

* * *

_My dearest Hermione,_

_I haven't much time for a very long letter at present, so I will content myself to one sheet. The first years have had several very trying days as they prepare to travel back to their family for the holidays. Needless to say, it has been a difficult week. Of course, you will remember what preparing for the holidays was like when you were a student._

_I have enclosed the latest Potions Quarterly for you, as promised. Do enjoy it, my dear. _

_How are your studies of Animagi going? I have enclosed a book in this parcel about Morgan Le Fay that I managed to procure just last week. I hope you find it as interesting as I did. Please take your time, as I have little time to read just now, and other books to occupy me._

_I do hope you are getting on with Severus. This is the real reason I have taken up the quill today to pen this missive. If you are willing to listen, here is some advice from an old spinster. I hope that you will be forthright with him about your long academic following of him, when the time is right. Severus appreciates a quick mind and a willing learner. It would also do him good to know you respect him._

_Wishing you much joy this holiday season. I hope to have you to tea soon._

_Affectionately,_

_Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress, Gryffindor-on-the-Grange_

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation & spelling on July 8th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who is encouraging me to push through the writer's block]._


	10. Dream: Descend

**So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.**

* * *

Hermione sighed as she watched Thomas disappear around the corner of the library door with his prize: her evening slippers. She tucked her bare feet under the hem of her worn evening gown. She turned back to her book Alchemical Corpus, deciding to pursue her cousin after finishing the next chapter. She absently stroked the spine of the heavy tome and lost herself in her reading.

As the fire died down, Hermione's eyes became heavy and the book slipped, unheeded, from her ink-marked fingers.

_An unfamiliar stretch of road curved away from her in either direction, swathed in a thick, muffling layer of snow. Beautiful and silent, the flakes that brushed her cheeks and swirled around her bare arms were cold and sharp as they bit her skin. The wind kissed her sharply, tossing her hair and finding purchase in her skirts. She began walking, stumbling through drifts and buffeted by the wind. She wrapped her arms tightly around her shoulders. _

_Fear rose in her, choking and thick, as she peered forward into the strange twilight. There was no change in the snow-covered track, no trees to use as shelter, no dark forms of structures to make for, no pinpricks of light twinkling through the grey. _

_She tripped again, finally laying still in the cold, worn and tired. Lying for a moment, she allowed herself to wonder if she would make it to a shelter in time._

_She knew the moment she was not alone; someone was in this prodigious, broad place with her. Stumbling to a halt, she cocked her head, hearing a whisper of emotion like the elusive strain of a single violin: worry, haste, searching. _

_He came over the crest of a drift like an avenging angel, his dark robes spread like the wings of a great dark bird. She rolled and reached for him, fighting the snow like the heavy waves of a stormy ocean. Meeting her outstretched arms, he gathered her into his cloak, cocooning her in his own warmth. _

_"I'm so glad you are here Severus; I've been so afraid." _

_She nestled into his chest, the buttons on his inner coat scratching against her cheek, safe and warm._

_Suddenly she was falling. Looking up through half-closed eyes she saw him fading, turning translucent, with a horrified look on his face. She lay for a moment, all the warmth from Severus fading._

_Hermione started to shiver again, and her eyes felt gritty as the tears began to well up and the panic bubbled up, bursting on the surface of her mind. _

_For long moments she shivered until the warmth came back, covering her feet and her shoulders. _

_Severus's face swam into focus again, back-lit by the glow of a dying fire. _

_"Severus? I'm so glad you are back. I was afraid when you left." _

_He gathered her against him again and she sighed deeply, contentedly. The gentle rocking motion of his long strides lulled her, returning her mind to sleepy contentment. _

The morning dawned with a muted brightness. Hermione woke slowly, a lingering contentment caressing her consciousness. As she propped herself up on one elbow, gazing through the half-open curtains, she caught sight of her bedclothes, or rather lack of bedclothes. She was still dressed in her shabby, secondhand evening gown. Peering down further, she saw her feet covered in thick, soft, unfamiliar stockings. Perplexed, she fingered the material, wondering just how much of last evening had been a dream.

* * *

_Note: Purposely Deleted & Re-posted July 21st, 2013._

_Edited for grammar, punctuation, & capitalization on July 19th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who can feel that this summer is very warm here in the U.S.]._

_Re-edited __for grammar, punctuation, & capitalization on July 21st, 2013 [courtesy of renaid,who has much patience._

_A debt of gratitude is owed to notyetanotheralias for gently reminding me to refocus on quality over quantity. Thank you for your encouragement to revisit this lack-luster chapter and spurring me on to set my sights higher for the next chapter._


	11. Glimpse: Gathers

**Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.**

* * *

Both being early risers, Severus and Hermione found themselves alone at the table. He was staring at her over his breakfast tea, dark eyes intense. Hermione fidgeted with her toast. She felt off-balance, unsure of her conduct and Severus's reaction to it. Having no idea how she made her way from reading in the library to her bedchamber, fully clothed, and remembering only the tangible reality of the dream world, she was unsure of how to conduct herself over something as mundane as mealtime tea.

His face gave nothing away, smooth and unfeeling as a still pool. She looked away, gathering courage.

"Miss Granger, will you accompany me to the parlor?" Though it was phrased as a polite question, the underlying power of his words drew her to his side.

He offered her his arm stiffly. Tipping back her head, she met his observation boldly. He leaned forward slightly, and for one breathless moment she thought he might kiss her, but he merely gazed at her.

"You are well this morning?" His voice caressed her like the lightest of touches.

She flushed, attempting to discern whether or not there was mocking in his tone. "I slept very well, sir. And yourself?"

His thin lips curved slightly, and Hermione found herself astonished by the loveliness of his secret smile. "Tolerably."

They sat near each other, quiet and awkward. Hermione found herself wishing for the first time in her life that she had a sort of feminine amusement such as needlecraft or knitting to amuse herself with in these empty moments. Her needlepoint attempts were buried in tangle masses in the bottom of her abandoned sewing basket, and her knitting lay similarly mutilated in her fiber bag.

After some moments he began drafting a letter, and Hermione attempted to read a novel her aunt had left nearby. The book was insipid and the silence stretched painfully. Retrieving her own book from its shameful resting place under the low couch in the library, the time passed more quickly.

A tapping at the window startled her. Minerva's Little Owl perched on the ledge expectantly. With a negligent flick of his wrist, the window popped free of the frame and opened wide enough to admit the small bird. It flew directly to Severus, offering its note-laden leg before flying to Hermione to collect its customary treat.

"Athene Noctua, what a brave miss you are," she cooed at it.

Severus stood and folded the missive. "Miss Granger, I am meeting Minerva in Diagon Alley; you should accompany me."

Hermione was up and running in a moment, gathering her heavy coat and thickest boots. She was rather overwhelmed by his generosity in thinking of inviting her. She smiled as she pulled on her bonnet and tugged on her gloves.

He was waiting for her, tall and dark, near the fireplace. He looked her over and, with an approving nod, offered her his arm.

She gripped his arm tightly, her joy overflowing and spilling from her smiling lips. "I haven't been to Diagon Alley in years." She stepped lightly on the balls of her delicate feet, almost dancing. "Not since gathering supplies for my school days." She looked up at him, beaming with excitement.

His eyes had warmed, seeming more chocolate brown than black now. Again, that secret smile played with the corners of his mouth.

Tossing a pinch of powder in the fireplace, his melodic voice named their destination and he guided her through.

They found Minerva waiting for them at the snowy corner of the teashop. Ever the gentleman, Severus held the door open for their entrance into the cozy room. Hermione realized in a sudden, sickening moment that she had no money, Muggle or otherwise. She felt so small and young, embarrassed that her excitement had pushed all rational thoughts from her mind.

Severus seated them and set about gathering their sweets while Minerva launched into a detailed explanation of the current state of the happenings at Gryffindor-on-the-Grange. In spite of the solemn distraction of Severus, his long dark form folded up into the small third chair, Hermione found her news of the curriculum and new students fascinating. She found herself glancing at Severus often, smiling at the sight of him cradling the delicate china and offering sarcastic comments periodically.

Standing suddenly, he excused himself and, donning his hat, left the establishment in great haste. Hermione stared after him, and even Minerva was unable to fully bring her attention back to the table.

After only a few minutes he returned, eyes like obsidian and his face cold and shuttered. Hermione felt a chill sweep down her spine. How could she feel so much warmth from him one moment and then be looking into the face of a stranger the next? It both frightened and saddened her. Immediately, she began to review her actions and speech, wondering when she had offended him.

Conversation became stilted and ground to a halt, uncomfortable and muted, as though an invisible entity had entered their cozy circle, and stood between them: an invisible yet impenetrable barrier.

Minerva suggested shopping, needing books for the next school term, and Hermione was grateful to flee the oppressive silence.

The streets were protected slightly from the inclement weather and the wind had gentled, but that did nothing to improve her spirits. He held her close, covering the small hand that clung to his arm with his own. She stumbled, trying to speak past the lump in her throat.

"Flourish and Blotts, Obscurus Books, or Whizz Hard Books?" she finally managed to ask in a small voice.

Minerva snorted rather inelegantly, seemingly unaffected by Severus's sudden coldness. "Flourish and Blotts, of course; they will have all the books I need ordered for the classroom."

Hermione slowed slightly to allow Minerva to enter ahead of them. Severus turned to her, lips parted slightly as though to say something but Hermione hurried on. "Master Snape."

His brow furrowed. "Miss Granger, are you ill?"

She took a fortifying breath, "I am perfectly alright, but sir…have I offended you?" She bit her lip in apprehension, dreading and longing for his answer almost equally.

"Of course not. I saw an old acquaintance; they had certain… unpleasant gossip." He sounded genuinely surprised. He smiled but it was stiff and she recognized the situation was more than a few passing, unpleasant words.

He held the door open for her, and she entered with a nod, getting lost among the books. She was vaguely aware of Severus following her at a distance, like a respectful shadow. Seizing an advanced Arithmancy text, she let the comfort of the complex calculations ease away her worry and stress for a time.

Minerva finished her shopping and even Severus purchased a thick stack of volumes. They bid Minerva a solemn goodbye and made their way to the floo point. Hermione's steps dragged as Severus guided with the arm not occupied with books.

She felt tired and drained, confused at her intended's behavior more than ever.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, & capitalization on July 21st, 2013 [courtesy of renaid,who hears what is not there]._


	12. Diary: Threshes

**He threshes you to make you naked.**

* * *

December 14th, 1814

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt that I was on a stretch of road. I am sure I haven't ever been in such a place before, but it sang sweetly of old memories I could not quite reach. It was almost as though I were looking into someone else's remembrances.

I was quite afraid and alone, dressed only in my thin evening gown, and it was snowing quite heavily. There was no shelter and I could not see how I might escape. Then Severus appeared and I could feel his emotions as though they were my own. It seems absurd to even write this in the privacy of my own chambers. He felt apprehension, attempting to hurry, hunting—searching for me. I cannot begin to communicate my relief, perhaps the strongest assuagement of panic that I have ever known. What happened next I am unsure, but it bears thinking about: He disappeared, dropping me, for he had me cradled against his chest, and vanished from the landscape. I have never been so petrified.

When he returned, he did not match the scenery, for his face was lit with a different light and I saw him as though from a distance: it was as if I remained in the cold landscape and he was in a room with a golden-orange fire. He was so tender to me that even the memory of it makes me feel as though I must still be dreaming. He held me so closely and securely I could not—I am considerably—I can hardly—I am undone. I long, indecently, to repeat such an experience in the light of day.

This morning I woke in my bed, with no memory of how I made my way there, my feet dressed in stockings that I did not recognize but which appeared very masculine.

It seems foolish to wonder if we might have met in a dream. I think I may write to Minerva to see if she has any recourse on dreams, the meaning and interpretation and whether they can be shared.

* * *

Later: I am at a loss to understand him. This has become my constant refrain. One moment he was almost smiling at me over his teacup and the next he was gazing down at me with the fiercest of looks. I have analyzed my conduct during our outing to Diagon Alley over and over and I am at a loss to understand his sudden coldness. I wonder if Minerva noticed and could tell me what went amiss. I am positively miserable.

* * *

December 15th, 1814

He has left all of those splendid, expensive, magnificent, thick Arithmancy books scattered about my adopted corner of the library. I have no idea why he would trust such expensive tomes out with the cousins rushing about. But I ought not to complain, since I am able to devour them without compunction.

_His_ attitude has shifted. He watches me without shame, or scruple. His eyes are so dark, as a still pool into which I could fall, drowning. Several times he has opened his mouth, seeming ready to speak, but changing his mind and turning away. Is he still upset with me? Might he dissolve our strange entanglement and leave me here alone?

I long to have this _thing_: our engagement, finalized between us. We behave in so many ways as though we might be engaged already, he has given me gifts and we have traveled in a carriage unchaperoned (although no one but his driver knows of that), and sit in rooms alone together conversing privately. Although his conduct says we are engaged, upon reflection I realize that he has not yet had the necessary conversations.

This uncertainty of his intentions hangs heavy and unspoken on my mind, separating us, shadowing our interactions and coloring our attitudes. I know why he is here, of course, but he has yet to speak to me about the subject in any way. I long to marry him. There, all my indecency is written out unavoidably, black and white for anyone to see. I desire for there to be nothing between us—no more of the social restraints that keep us from genuine conversation, no false politeness, no more uncertainty. He is all that is brilliant and desirable, my own knight, protecting me from the machinations of my family and providing such safety and comfort that I have never known.

I am nearly sick with anxiety. Whatever is on his mind, let him speak quickly. Let him not censure or despise me.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation & spelling on July 25h, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who knew what this chapter was missing]. _


	13. Letter: Sifts

**He sifts you to free you from your husks.  
**

* * *

_Dearest Hermione, _

_You know that you do not need to thank me for chaperoning you and our Severus. It was my delight to provide you with an outing. How many times have I attempted to convince your uncle to allow me to take you out and how many times has he denied us? Trust Severus to just do what he wants. I should have thought of just spiriting you away through the floo._

_I have enclosed some of the books you asked for, however, I cannot send all that I have at once. You know that Athene Noctua is only a very little owl. __Dreamer's Dictionary__,__ Hortence's __Dream Theory__, and__ Maven's Vision Magic__ will have to do for now. I'll send others after a few days and after I've had a chance to look through the library._

_As to your other delicately phrased questions: yes, I noticed Severus's turn of countenance after he so rudely flounced out into the snow. I am afraid I haven't any idea what could have made him so taciturn. If he told you he heard gossip, you can be sure it was serious, as you already suspected. _

_I am very sorry to not be more help to you. As well as I think I know him, there are many things he is unwilling to share with me. In one regard, however, allow me to put your worrying heart to rest. He could scarcely take his dark eyes off of you for more than a moment. Longing expressions and thoughtful gazes are expressions I am sure I have never seen on that sharp-angled face before._

_Finally, let me have no more talk of repayment for our luncheon. Severus paid for it all, in any event, and he can well afford it. Now I will speak out of turn: You must learn to be comfortable with his money, you know, as it will soon be yours. Think of it as practice, perhaps._

_All my love,_

_Minerva_

* * *

_Edited for grammar, punctuation, & continuity on July 28st, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who really ought to get paid for this]._


	14. Glimpse: Grinds

**He grinds you to whiteness.**

* * *

Hermione hid in the second parlor, hauling an enormous arithmancy book after her. She crawled up into the window seat and tugged the curtain mostly closed, letting in just enough light to read by. Settling down and arranging her skirts, she glanced out at the wintery lawn. In the evening darkness, the dazzling silver-brushed grounds looked as cold and hopeless as Hermione felt. She had received a kind letter from Minerva earlier, but it had done little to assuage the heavy weight that rested on her heart. A wind came round the side of the manor house, rattling the panes with its fury. Hermione sighed and spread her slender fingers against the ice-cold glass. Better to feel discomfort than feel nothing at all.

Opening the book, she flicked through the pages until alighting on the naming chapter. She calculated Severus's name, assigning a numerical value to each letter and then adding them together to get a two-digit value that could be interpreted. His was twenty-eight.

Severus, under the sign of the moon and Uranus: balance and duality, wealth and cycles. Simplifying it further he came under the Sun, marked by action and ambition. The number one was yang energy, masculine.

She quickly began a new series of calculations. Her number was fifty-one. Hermione, under the sign of Jupiter and the Sun: adventure and purity. Continuing to add the numbers she came under Venus, a love and fertility symbol. The number six was yin energy, feminine.

She pondered this for a moment, wondering if she could pursue these calculations in a different way. Perhaps there was a way to see if there was any sort of subconscious or dream compatibility.

A step in the hall announced Severus's arrival, but Hermione didn't notice at first. He positioned himself at the chess table and arranged the pieces with care. After making only one move, he stared at the board as though waiting for an invisible partner to respond. Their thoughtful tranquility was shattered by the loud entrance of Hermione's uncle.

Mr. Granger did not see his niece in the deep shadow of the curtain and began his conversation in the booming voice full of false jollity he used when he knew he was out classed. "Master Snape!"

"Mr. Granger," Severus responded in a monotone.

Her uncle hurried on, oblivious to the quiet hostility in the room. "I hope everything is going well in your… ahem… endeavors with Hermione." His tone was wheedling, seeking gossip.

The lady in question felt her cheeks flame at his bald comment.

Severus made deft moves on the chessboard, raising his keen eyes to Mr. Granger's eager face. "I believe so. If I may broach the subject of setting a date—"

Hermione stared at his sharp face, breathless with longing. Was this finally the realization of her dream, the forging of the contract?

"Capital, capital." Mr. Granger gave a vulgar little cough.

Severus continued as though he had not been interrupted. "I would like to marry as soon as possible. January, I think. Early January."

Hermione's heart swelled within her; soon, so soon she would escape.

Mr. Granger hesitated, "Well, that is a little soon, but…"

She drew in a disappointed breath. Surely he would not forestall her? Trust her uncle to be ultimately concerned with appearances to the last.

Severus suddenly lifted his eyes to her hiding place, pinning her with his dark stare. When he spoke, it was not to her uncle, his deep voice gentled and turned coaxing. "I would like it to take place quickly; some business is coming that I am afraid will remove me to the continent for a time. I would like to have this settled before I go. If it is agreeable?"

Even as her uncle began speaking, she found herself smiling and nodding. Severus moved another chess piece with a small, triumphant smile of his own.

"Well certainly, certainly, if you can get a license in time. I am relieved. It's hard to marry off a bluestocking, you know."

Her cheeks flamed with humiliation all over again; biting her lip she fought the tears that gathered rebelliously behind her eyelids. As he observed her, Severus's expression darkened thunderously and froze icily. His voice snapped like a whip as he stood, looming. "That is quite enough; your disrespect goes too far. Remind yourself that you are speaking of the woman who will soon be my wife. I am not known for my leniency… sir."

He unsheathed his voice like a weapon as he hurried to her defense. Surely, she comforted her bruised heart, he must care for her a little to fight her uncle in his own home.

Hermione saw her uncle loose a bit of his color under Severus's threat. "Just what are you implying, sir?"

Severus smirked. "I have been known to allow my hand to slip over a man's morning cup of tea for less severe insults." His voice took on a mocking note. "Come, come, Mr. Granger. Be pleased. You seem to have rid yourself of your niece at last."

Hermione's quill dropped from her lax fingers, so riveted was she on the drama unfolding in front of her. Severus knew she was here: this was as much for her benefit as her uncle's.

Mr. Granger stood quickly, "Yes… well… my apologies… I'll just tell my wife the good news shall I?" He darted from the room like a rabbit, scared of his own shadow.

Severus crossed to Hermione in two strides, taking one delicate, ink-smeared hand in his larger rougher one. He raised it slowly to his lips, his dark eyes trained on her upturned face. He pressed his lips first to her fingertips, then brushed them softly over the back of her hand, then his warm breath ghosted over her palm, and finally the inside of her wrist where her pulse beat like a drum. His lips lingered, as her breathing grew ragged through parted, rosy lips.

* * *

_In case you are interested:_

_Severus = 1, 5, 4, 5, 9, 3, 1 = 2 8 = 1 0 = 1_

_Hermione = 8, 5, 9, 4, 9, 6, 5, 5 = 5 1 = 6_

_I pulled meanings from everywhere, even out of my head._

* * *

_Edited for grammar, punctuation, & missing words on August 4th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who swoons at all the right parts]._


	15. Diary: Kneads

**He kneads you until you are pliant; And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,**

* * *

December 17th

It is done; it is done, and I am undone. Finally, our engagement is at rest. He asked me himself and I could not imagine refusing him.

My aunt spent the whole of dinner exalting over my wedding and asking questions I couldn't answer about when and where or of my nonexistent dress. His eyes were very dark when he finally told her to be quiet so I could finish my own meal. When we had finished, he spirited me away to the parlor and glowered at my aunt until she left us. We sat very quietly: I, because I could think of nothing demure to say and he, because he keeps his own council.

It is late and I will write Minerva tomorrow; someone must share this joy and relief with me.

* * *

December 18th

He is gone. To where, I don't know. I have no idea when he will return. This house is a veritable prison without him. I truly didn't realize how dull and empty my life had been before Severus came with his dark glares and looming presence.

My aunt followed me around the house most of the day, crowing at _her_ success at bringing about my impending marriage. I was unsure as to which part of this whole experience she can lay claim to, besides annoying Severus at every turn. I delicately kept my own council.

I managed to slip away extremely early after supper, as Minerva sent me a package this morning. She sent me a very old, quite obscure book called Souls Bound in Dreams and it has been a breakthrough, allowing me to make some real progress with my research into dreams and their significance.

It _is_ possible to share dreams. It usually requires two quite powerful souls and at least one powerful mind trained in the disciplines of Legilimency and Occlumency. The souls, if compatible and under duress, are able reach out and connect subconsciously. A bond is forged on a very deep level, often unfelt by both parties when they are awake. I am unsure that I can say with certainty that this is what happened between Severus and me, and yet—I can't help but think that it is, at the very least, possible. Usually the more powerful and trained mind dominates the dream, which explains the alien, yet strangely familiar landscape. According to the book, it may happen again, deepening the connection with every dream.

Souls Bound in Dreams references a few other obscure books on Soul Magic that I will have to request from Minerva. Hopefully she has a few of them, at least.

* * *

December 19th

Minerva sailed into the house after breakfast and imperiously demanded that I be released into her hands for the day. My aunt was easily swayed when Minerva mentioned that Severus himself had sent her. She bundled me through the floo with a rather maniacal cackle, every feather on her hat vibrating. She had come to take me shopping for a new wardrobe. Severus seems to take his role as my protector and provider very seriously. He had sent Minerva with more gleaming gold guineas and galleons than I had ever seen in my life. The purses were unbelievably heavy. Of course, Minerva assured me, many shops would honor his name once we were wed and simply add my purchases to his account.

She took me through the floo into Muggle London: up and down Flee Street, Oxford Street with its great glass windows, and Ludgate Hill. We went to the Bond Street Bazaar, a spacious and lofty shopping mall, nobly situated with gilded supporting columns with Corinthian capitals and skylights and two grand staircases leading up into galleries. It must have been nearly one hundred feet long and over half as wide. The stalls were lovely, clean and well lit, and the shopkeepers quite friendly. I was convinced to purchase six new day dresses and four evening gowns, each with matching accessories. Among those were new slippers and a sumptuous evening wrap. I am still horrified when I think about the amount of coin that changed hands. Minerva brooked no refusal and paid for everything out of Severus's generosity.

For Ginny, I did find a white pelisse of the very finest cloth and I requested the most delicate pearl buttons to be sewn on to it. I know she will approve, as it is very fine. Perhaps she can wear it when she calls on Lavender Brown next.

I stumbled upon Rundell and Bridge, a very fine jewelers shop. It was lovely and they had both Muggle and magical jewelry on display. I selected Severus's gift from the elderly wizard who remarked it very masculine and tasteful. I only hope I have courage to give him something I bought with his own money. It seems a bit ridiculous.

I am simply exhausted and must fly to bed directly.

* * *

December 20th

Tomorrow is the Weasley's Solstice Party. I am quite anxious and excited. I have been looking over my new evening gowns but cannot decide which one to wear tomorrow. This is so unlike me. I think the gold silk with the warm poppy-red trim. I believe the modiste called it coquelicot, because, of course, the French have the corner on fashion. Or perhaps the emerald green trimmed in Spanish brown and scarlet would be more festive.

My uncle has made it very clear that if Severus does not return, I will not be going. I am convinced that Severus will uphold our engagement. He is nothing but a man of his word.

I forgot, in my excitement yesterday, to record that I have secured another book, Deep Sleep, that I hope will be useful in my research.

* * *

_Edited for grammar, punctuation, capitalization, masculinity & missing words on August 11th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who will have a fabulous and fun time on her trip]._


	16. Glimpse: Sacred

**that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.**

* * *

The evening of the party had finally arrived and Hermione was exultant in her new, rich, golden gown and intricate lace shawl, her hair done in fetching ringlets with scarlet and gold ribbons peaking from between chestnut curls.

Severus had, against all propriety, produced a small case as they waited on the hearthrug for the floo to connect. Resting on black velvet were intricately tooled golden hair combs in the shape of an unfamiliar crest, dripping with what looked like rubies.

Speechless, Hermione grasped the edges of the box as he held it out to her. Calmly, as though he did such things every day, he took them out, one by one, and tenderly buried them in her upswept hair. His feather-light touch smoothed and teased, ruffling her curls gently. She could only stare at him when he finished and took the empty case back, tucking it away somewhere.

The crooked, slightly embarrassed smile he offered her when he held out his arm had her breathless and strangely flustered. His strange, silent approval made her feel more beautiful than if he had said it with words.

Her voice quavered slightly as she pronounced their destination, and they stepped together into the leaping green flames.

The hall of the Burrow was paneled in pine, the warm wood reflecting the flickering golden light of the tallow candles. The air was heavy with rich smells: the spicy pine, the savory scent of a roast freshly pulled from the spit, the perfumes of so many fine ladies, the autumn smell of heated apple cider, the greasy aroma of the tallow candles. Each was as dear to Hermione as the next.

The thick beams of the doorway that led into the crowded dining room were surrounded with a thick garland of greenery and decorated with the ruby-gleaming berries of holly, the bright cheery apricot hue of the oranges, the deeper crimson of pomegranates and a few carefully placed peacock feathers. The Weasleys might not be rich as her uncle counted wealth, but the familiar decorations - Molly used the peacock feathers every year - brought back warm memories.

They were hurried into the melee, with warm glasses of spiced cider pressed into their hands before they knew exactly what was happening. Normally, Hermione might have been welcomed as a lost daughter and been passed among them, receiving embraces from all, but this year the slender man who clung to her so possessively made all unsure. The younger Weasleys were not pleased to have their access to her checked. Ronald stood just beyond them in the shadow of the first parlor door, a disdainful sneer marring his face.

Ginny cast glances between Hermione and her dark protector. He gave every impression of being displeased. His brows were dark and slightly hooked at the inner edge, giving his expression a perpetually irritated appearance. His eyes were what some might call fine, being neither too deep-set nor too close together. They were exceptionally dark, to the point it was hard to discern their true color, and thickly lashed. They were warm as they regarded the petite woman on his arm and coolly suspicious while observing all others. The thick fall of his hair around his shoulders somewhat hid the gauntness of his face, but one had only to look at the impeccable cut of his expensive coat to discern how truly lean he was. Of his nose, nothing could be said but that it was "singular" and had "character."

Severus made curt excuses and led her away, peeking in the festively decorated rooms briefly before deeming them unusable and moving on. Hermione was more than happy to be the sole object of Severus's attention; indeed she reveled in it, soaking up his regard as a plant starved for sunlight.

He led her into the library; the meager selection of books barely filled the shelves that were built into the walls, leaving the center of the room open. The rug had been taken up and, with the spinet in the corner, it was obvious that there would be dancing in this room later. For now there were a few couples that seemed to also be enjoying the relative quiet.

Severus strode across the room and tucked her into the window box at the far end. She could not meet his eyes, suddenly shy. He was very finely dressed this evening, and the seductive masculine scent of whatever he used to wash clung to him, wafting over her every time he moved. She felt very keenly how much she owed him, both in gratitude and in devotion. She wore a dress he had purchased and exceptional jewelry he had placed in her hair himself. Beyond these things, Severus had saved her from her uncle's plans to marry her off indiscriminately to anyone deemed rich enough. His willingness to wed her was heaven-sent as he was her first, indeed, her only choice. Severus treated her with every courtesy and appearance of devotion. She fondly remembered Minerva's words only a month before: quietly passionate and fiercely loyal.

Her averted gaze beheld a shape as it made its way through the open door. She drew in a breath, dreading the inevitable outcome of this little scene.

Severus turned on his heel to see what she observed and they both stared together at the floating mistletoe.

"I had forgotten. It is Fredrick and George's little annual Christmas prank," she whispered miserably, horrified that he would feel awkward and put on display by the machinations of the twins.

It moved purposefully around the room, hovering over each couple in turn. It became obvious that if a couple resisted the show of affection, more was required before the mistletoe would move on.

Hermione was appalled, pressing herself ineffectually back into the dimness the curtain provided.

Under his breath she heard him mutter, "What a useless piece of magic."

She cringed when it finally came to rest over her head, meeting Severus's eyes hesitantly. He leaned forward and she felt a rush of relief, joy and pleasure. Her eyes slipped closed of their own volition as his breath ghosted over her cheek. Yearningly, he pressed his lips to her right cheek, followed by her left. She sighed blissfully as one of his slender fingers gently hooked underneath her chin and guided it up. His lips touched her with the merest brush as the dinner bell sounded.

Disappointed, but embarrassed for being so, Hermione allowed herself to be guided into the dining room. Severus's hand rested on the small of her back and had her whole body tingling from the intimate contact.

They were seated near the twins, who turned to greet them with identical smirks. "Hel-lo." Obviously they were trying for suave and polished. Hermione thought they had rather missed the mark. They continued, all excitement, "Have you seen it yet?"

"Your prank? Yes, it was floating about in the library." She smiled and motioned between the smirking man on her left and the two troublemakers on her right. "Master Snape, these are George and Fredrick Weasley."

"Enchanted."

"Enraptured."

She rolled her eyes slightly and began to eat, savoring the traditional Weasley fare.

Ginevera settled in the seat across from her and they smiled at one another.

Severus only nodded, lifting another forkful to his lips as he methodically cleaned his plate with all the enthusiasm of a man ingesting poison.

Striving to keep the banter alive, she paused and asked teasingly, "You haven't touched the Yule log this year, have you?"

Severus lifted a dark brow. Feeling bold under the cover of the table cloth, Hermione reached out and slipped her hand into Severus's larger one. He turned startled eyes to her, but tightened his hold on her gently. She smiled sweetly.

"Last year they charmed the Yule log to light off fireworks in the parlor," she confided a little breathlessly.

George leaned forward and said earnestly, "We were the only ones who found it amusing though."

"I shouldn't wonder," Severus groused. With his plate cleared, he turned his full attention to his fiancé. She blushed slightly as he served her a bit more of the roast she was obviously enjoying and kept her hand firmly enfolded in his: an anchor in the madness.

Ginevera leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, "We heard of your engagement. It is the talk of the countryside."

"Indeed. We are to be married very soon," Hermione answered, flushing darkly, unable to glance at Severus.

Ginevera looked pointedly behind her, and Hermione wilted under Ronald's venomous glare, her appetite fleeing. She was startled to hear Severus's low voice in her ear, inviting her to escape with him to the parlor. Leaving the tail end of her meal uneaten, she escaped. Ginny eyed her knowingly.

They found the parlor abandoned and the fire burning bright with the Yule log. The room was decorated with pinecones and boughs, carefully pressed oak leaves and bowls of woody nuts. The furniture was shabby, but the loving heart of the home was plainly visible.

Severus served Hermione a glass of cinnamon-scented wassail and paused to admire a table already laid out with the velvet bags for the ashes. Retrieving his own cup, he sat very near her on the couch. They were silent for a few moments, but it was comfortable and companionable. Hermione traced the understated designs in the fabric of her gown.

Finally his deep voice broke the silence, "Do they always burn a Yule log?"

Discerning the question behind the question, she answered, "Yes, it is always pine."

"Hoping for prosperity?"

"Not everyone received compensation for the war," she answered gently, not wishing to cast any aspirations on his own fortune. It was unfortunate that so few had gained their rightful due.

He hummed thoughtfully before reaching out and taking her hand. She flushed all over again, but allowed him to twine their fingers together.

"Minerva mentioned that you are unhappy that I come and go as I please." His tone was neutral but his words had her fearful and tense.

She hurried to try to explain. "Of course you may come and go as you please. I would never try to limit you." She peeked at him from under her lashes.

He did not appear angry, rather perplexed. "But you would like to know when I leave?"

She bit her lip and answered in a small voice, "Yes."

He nodded once and took a sip of his drink. "I am leaving tomorrow afternoon for my estate; I will return on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, directly after lunch."

After a moment of stunned silence Hermione found herself smiling happily at him. "I look forward to your return."

She thought of the half-finished scarf of soft deep green wool that was still on the needles in her bedchamber, the caldron she had smuggled up to the attic to hide in a corner for brewing, and the piece, bought from jeweler in town carefully wrapped in a soft cloth in her writing desk.

The first sounds of the longways Country Dance filtered down the hallway and the sound of people and conversation swelled. Severus released her hand with a sigh, putting distance between them as he refilled his cup from the sparkling punch bowl.

He turned those dark fathomless eyes on her and offered her that lovely, shy, crooked smile. It was quickly becoming her favorite expression to see on his face. "Would you like to dance, Miss Granger?"

"Please." She discarded her cup and stood quickly, eager to close the physical distance between them again.

His expression warmed at her obvious excitement and he held out his arm, nodding at the couples who were entering the room as they quit it.

The library was crowded now and they milled about the edge until the third dance, when the floor had cleared enough for them to join. Breathless with laughter and delight, the heady emotions of the holiday and Severus's nearness, no one could fail to notice that Hermione outshone them all.

* * *

___Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation, coherency & spelling on August 20th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who laughs in the face of poison]._


	17. Letter: Secrets

**All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart,**

* * *

_Dear Mr. & Mrs. Weasley and children,_

_Thank you very much for the invitation to your annual solstice gathering. Words cannot express what a lovely time you provided for your guests. _

_My fond wishes for your health and happiness in this new year._

_Fondly,_

_Hermione Granger_

* * *

_Sir & Madam,_

_Thank you for including me in your invitation._

_At your service,_

_Severus Snape_

* * *

_Dear One,_

_I hope you can see my regard now, Ginny, and understand more of my happiness. I know Master Snape might have seemed aloof,_ _but given the circumstances, I hope you understand his reasons. I have nothing but the deepest affection for your family, but even you can own that they can be overwhelming at times, even to me. Fredrick and George were up to their old tricks, of course. Your mother's dinner was a culinary delight. I always look forward to her cooking and am so disappointed I am not blessed to eat at your table more often. Feel free to tell her so._

_Your gift was, I hope, just as you desired. I selected the buttons myself, so if they don't suit, please feel free to replace them. You know my taste is nothing to yours, my dear. I hope that Miss Lavender Brown will appreciate it when you see her next._

_I had the most wonderful time just this last week when Minerva took me up to town. It was a great treat and allowed me the opportunity to begin building a new wardrobe of my own. I only wish you had been there to advise me. The shopkeepers were helpful, but I longed for you, dear one, and your eye for fashion. _

_Please write and tell me of your celebrations; for now I must end this letter. My aunt is calling: as always, I am to wrap all of the gifts for the little ones._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

___Edited for grammar, capitalization, punctuation, spelling, & references to "town" on August 20th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who knows the heart's desires]._


	18. Dream: Fragment of Knowledge

**and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.**

* * *

It was the night before Christmas Eve at last; Severus would be returning to Granger House the next day, and Hermione was all excitement. She had filled her time as one who hoards the moments into minutes into hours. She had submitted herself to her aunt for all the tasks that defined her servitude.

As always, she was required to wrap the cousins' gifts from their parents and stuff their little stockings with mints and cinnamon candies. She topped each bulging sock with a fragrant orange. At least this was a chore she enjoyed, even if she longed for the days when her name graced a package or two underneath the evergreen.

Hermione had spent much of the day in the kitchens overseeing the Christmas Eve dinner and the preparations for Christmas. Although she was not gifted in the culinary arts, her organizational skills were excellent. By the end of the day the roast beef was trimmed with rosemary and the geese were stuffed and dressed with carrots. The filling for the mince pies, beef studded with raisins and liberally scented with orange peel and brandy, was stored in a generous vat in the coolness of the cellar pantry. They would eat mince pies every day for the Twelve Days of Christmas, to ensure good luck for the twelve months of the year. Usually pies were offered to the household's friends and acquaintances to strengthen the luck, but Hermione's uncle forbade such frivolity and, as he termed it, waste. The pudding cloth was clean and ready to receive the mixture to be boiled. She had rolled out the tangy gingerbread and the rich butter shortbread herself. The cook had chopped the dried figs, cherries and dates into tiny pieces, rolling the bite sized nibbles studded with anise, fennel, caraway and cardamom. These sugarplums were a favorite of the cousins.

Stealing away late in the evening, she had wearily climbed the two flights of stairs to her cramped little room at the end of the family wing. Blinking back sleep, she had wrapped a second set of gifts for her cousins: gloves from London for Fanny, ribbons of every conceivable color for the twins, and a wooden sword for the impetuous Thomas.

Finally blowing out the candle, she crawled into bed.

_The room she stood in was obviously quite a masculine study. The shelves were stuffed with thick books and scrolls identified by fluttering color-coded tags. There were no knickknacks or portraits; the decorations were objects of science or ancient sorcery and many were contained in enchanted glass. Bemused, she began to explore. _

_The case nearest her contained several gold scarabs covered in delicate hieroglyphics. At first glance they appeared to be unremarkable, but when Hermione leaned closer they began to move, startling her. The next case, jammed between a well-worn dictionary and an abandoned teacup, held a small statue of jade. A few shelves down a Galilean thermometer stood proudly. Hermione had heard about this object but had never seen one in person before. It was exactly as described: a sealed glass cylinder filled with a clear ethanol and water mixture and smaller floating glass vessels that held other liquids of varying densities. As the temperature changed, the individual globes rose or sank to reflect it. _

_On a small table between two bookshelves was a Celestial globe. She brushed her fingers over the golden service and sent it spinning. Instantly, as though he was standing next to her, Severus's voice sounded, "Ibrâhîm ibn Saîd al-Sahlî, an eminent Islamic globe-maker, active in the eleventh century. This globe depicts 47 of the 48 classical constellations, it contains 1,015 of the 1,025 stars cataloged by Ptolemy, and it shows the maximum circumference of the equator and of the ecliptic as well as the Arctic and Antarctic polar circles. Purchased in Florence, Italy…" His voice trailed away as Hermione backed up, startled. _

_She turned and looked more closely at the study. Was this Severus's home?_

_She rounded the stately desk and peered down at the open scroll that was draped across it. The tag read: __Alchemical Scrolls: Sir George Ripley, 15__th__ century. Review.__ The sheet was dominated by a detailed rendering of a green dragon hanging upside down from a sphere, clutching both his tail and a crescent in his mouth. Cocking her head, she considered it, and it too began to move on the paper, undulating and shivering._

_A grinding noise behind her caused her to turn. A passage was opening, a dark gaping hole in the well-ordered bookshelves. Curious, she approached and peered in. It was a small room, seeming no bigger than her closet of a bedroom, but every wall was covered with narrow shelves. The shelves were covered with carefully labeled bowls identified with a few words and a date. The contents of the bowl had her crossing the threshold. It was brimming with a silver liquid that swirled and eddied. _

_A pensieve? A thousand, thousand memories? _

_She moved further into the room, realizing that it was much larger, longer and deeper, than she had at first thought. The bowls were arranged by year, newest by the entrance. She selected one close to the door, and read the label: __The Burrow: Solstice Party. Revisit.__ Turning, she noticed a shelf covered in dingy grey bowls labeled __Lily __Evans__ Potter: History of Interactions. Repress.__ The newest vessel was dated earlier that day and labeled only __Refused Request: Speak to Colonel Lupin. Resolve then Repress__. There was a narrow table bisecting the narrow room that had more beautiful and ornate bowls, golden and decorated with jewels and scrollwork. The table was labeled __Hermione Granger: My Wife. Revisit._

_Astounded she walked down the length of the table. A bowl caught her eye; it was decorated with little inkpots and quills that were so delicate that she thought she might feel the feathers tickle her fingers if she brushed them. It was labeled __First Impression. Revisit.__ Boldly, she leaned forward, her breath stirring the surface, before slipping into the memory. _

_She was standing in her uncle's parlor but her perception was wrong—she was taller. She looked down, shocked to find herself clad in dark wool breaches. Lifting a hand, she turned it over, wondering at the pale, scarred skin and neatly trimmed nails. _

_"Master Snape, may I introduce my niece, Miss Hermione Granger."_

_Her eyes snapped up to regard her own uncle, bobbing and smiling annoyingly. She realized that Severus's emotions and internal monologue were bleeding over into her perception of the scene. _

_-What an annoying little Muggle. Miss Granger? Yes. That must be her. What lovely, curly hair. She is so young. Too young? Stop ogling her like you have never seen a woman before, you buffoon. Don't say anything sharp. Smile… no don't smile. Don't let her see your teeth. No hesitation in her address. This is good. I can do this. Yes, tea. Innocuous. Relax. Sugar, milk? Both. What am I doing here? This was poorly thought out. Damn Albus. Is she pleased with my appearance? What a jest. Of course not. Is she afraid of me? Hmm, she seems calm. What book is that? Are those ink stains on her fingers? How fetching. What can I say? I hate polite conversation. Relax.-_

_Hermione pulled back away from the memory, finding herself again in the little pensieve room, a tad shaky, staring at the bowl in wonder. Was that really how he saw her? Those warm, tentative feelings? Was that how he saw himself? _

_From far away she heard the study door open. Instinctively, she turned toward the exit, glancing longingly at the rest of the basins, knowing that the mystery of Severus was wrapped up in this carefully ordered chronicle. _

_He was standing by the window, looking out at the snowy lawn. He had abandoned his Muggle fashions and neck cloth and was dressed in scholastic robes and a long coat, done up with glittering black buttons. She crossed to him and boldly touched his arm. He turned towards her with a smile, more relaxed than she had ever seen him. _

_"You are here."_

_"Yes. Where is here?"_

_His brow furrowed, "Spinner's End."_

_She beamed as he took her arm and began to give her a tour. He was animated and relaxed, pointing out his favorite rooms and speaking of changes to the property. Hermione laughed and nodded, dimly wondering at the difference in his behavior. He paused before an ornate door and fidgeted, two spots of color appearing high on his cheekbones._

_This must be the master suite. Feeling audacious, she slipped passed him and opened the door herself._

_The sight that met them was astonishing. People crowded the room: an old man sat on the bed; she recognized him from his own magical pictures in scholarly journals as Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts College. Minerva was digging through Severus's armoire. There was a woman by the window, dressed in rags. A distant whisper informed her that this was Lily Potter. Two men sat on the rug, one in a red coat: James Potter and Colonel Lupin, the murmur supplied. _

_A noise from the connecting door had Hermione staring as the entire Weasley clan ran around an empty room. They seemed to be playing tag._

_A young man lifted a glass full of amber liquid in a salute from the chair by the fire. A warm feeling washed over her and a single name: Draco._

"_Ye gods! This is a nightmare!" Severus snarled. _

_The auburn haired woman began crying wrenching, heaving sobs. Minerva began burning Severus's clothing while Headmaster Dumbledore laughed and encouraged her. The Weasleys began to shriek and hiss like animals as they continued their game._

"_Come, my boy, just give me your life for a few more years. I promise I will let you go when I am done with you." Headmaster Dumbledore jangled a cuff and chain at Severus._

"_Sadist," Severus sneered, tugging Hermione into the hallway._

_"That was frighteningly surreal. Is that what you really think of them?" Hermione mused._

_"Nonsense. I don't want to be distracted from you for a moment." Severus led the way down the grand staircase._

"_I didn't recognize the boy in the chair." Hermione thought of those affectionate feelings she had sensed. Severus rested his hand gently on the small of her back, sending warmth pooling in her stomach. _

_"My godson, Draco."_

_She was ushered into a large, light-filled room. The walls were lined with books of all shapes and sizes. There were two large fireplaces that faced each other. Over one was a portrait of a very serious looking Severus Snape. The other mantle was empty. _

_"For your portrait." _

_She smiled and drifted towards the nearest shelves. "How many…" Hermione trailed off. _

_"I just purchased my ten thousandth book, and yes, I count duplicates." _

_They were organized by category first, then subject, then author. She was enraptured. _

_"Different editions?" she murmured._

"_Especially editions of potions grimoires." _

_The potions section was indeed massive._

_She laughed delightedly, twirling in the center of the room, arms outstretched in joy. "I would give anything to stay here forever. I am so sad this isn't real."_

_"Not real? I assure you; I practically built Spinner's End with my own hands." _

_She wondered if this was the test she had been hoping for, the way she could measure the reality of the dreams. She could compare this Spinner's End with the actual estate and draw conclusions from it. She laughed then, elated. _

She woke, still smiling. These dreams were quickly becoming the best gifts she had ever received.

* * *

_Notes on Regency Christmas Menu from Literary Liaisons dot com._

_Objects in Severus's study include the Celestial Globe, which is housed at the Museo Galileo in Florence Italy and the Lindorm dragon from the alchemical scrolls of Sir George Ripley, 15th century. _

* * *

_Edited for grammar, punctuation, spelling, word order, capitalization, general hilarity on August 25th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who warily catches my embarrassingly conceivable autocorrects]._


	19. Letter: Peace & Pleasure

**But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,**

* * *

_Dear Minerva,_

_I hope you had a wonderful Solstice, a very merry Christmas, and I am hoping that you will have a blessed New Year._

_I write you with the most wonderful news. Severus and I are to be wed on the first Wednesday in January. I write to request your attendance. It will be a small ceremony; Severus was quite adamant on that point. There are very few people who I would want to attend in any case. _

_You will not recognize this owl as Severus just gifted her to me yesterday. No longer will I have to wait for your owl to come before I am able to send you a letter. My uncle was beside himself when Cinnamon began dropping pellets on the floor, but one look from Severus silenced him on the subject. After all, I am leaving his house ten days' time. Even an owl can be borne at such a price. _

_Severus gifted me with such bounty, Minerva; I can hardly contain myself. I have not had a gift since my parents died, these five years past. I do not say this to wound you, for we have never exchanged gifts during the Christmas season and I have never felt neglected by you. You have always been more than generous to me. However, I did not realize how much I have missed receiving things that someone selected for me during the season of Yule. _

_He gave me jewelry, of such weight and size that I was almost ashamed to accept it, a potions book with helpful notations written in his own hand, and a perfume that I believe he brewed himself. I have been devouring the book since yesterday and just now set it down to write to you. You will laugh, I know, Hermione's nose buried in a book._

_I was also hoping to persuade you, if you are not too busy, to come to Granger House tomorrow, which is a Tuesday. The London modiste is coming that day to begin the wedding dress. I would dearly love your company. Ginevera Weasley will also be attending me. You must remember her; she was a year behind me in school. I am sure you will enjoy seeing her again._

_Affectionately,_

_Hermione_

* * *

_A word of explanation: I have changed the chapter heading/titles. I tend towards compulsive uniformity in my writing (stories being a certain length, chapters having a certain word count, all of the titles following a format, etc.) and so I chose Kahlil Gibran's __The Prophet__ as the theme for this story as I wasn't happy with the previous ones. Thank you for bearing with my strangeness. _

_Edited for punctuation, word meaning, & capitalization on August 31th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who helps me get to the point]._


	20. Diary: Threshing-floor

**Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,**

* * *

Tuesday, December 27th, 1814

I truly haven't had so much enjoyment in my uncle's house since I taught Thomas to slide down the bannisters. Today both Ginevera and Minerva helped with the wedding dress fitting, more aptly called a fiasco.

I am not certain how Severus selected the magical modiste from town, but she was quite unexpected. The woman wore the most shocking lace-covered bonnet and had no less than three fur coats. Her face was powdered very white and I am almost certain that her French accent was entirely put on.

She had some wild ideas, but Ginny, bless her, talked her down from scarlet and mauve satin to silver silk with coral rosebuds and silver beading. Bless Ginevera, patron saint of fashion.

Madam Incroy took my measurements, all the while clicking her tongue and declaring my appearance to be wanting. My faults I will list here for later review. My face is too thin; my complexion has no brilliancy (and needs a liberal amount of paint before it would become so); my features, more generally, are not at all handsome. My nose lacks character. Although my teeth are tolerable (and my papa would be very glad to hear it), they are nothing out of the common way. My eyes, apparently, might be called fine, but are nothing extraordinary. Madam really could not be contained in regards to my horrid abundance of hair. At this point, Minerva cut her off.

As she left, she promised to begin sending dresses on the very next day, as I am to have the best wardrobe that money could buy. Ginny gave her a list of appropriate colors and styles, much to Madam Incroy's dismay. Ginny, thankfully, was insistent.

Severus left Granger House again this morning, promising to return on the Second of January. There was rather a row this morning, which I enjoyed immensely. Severus had already refused to have banns read in either parish, for what purpose I know not. However, my aunt was positively scandalized when he demanded the news of our wedding not be published in the paper. My aunt, of course, did not think it proper, but Severus was more than adamant. Whatever his reasons for his insistence, I will acquiesce. My trust in him is implicit.

* * *

Wednesday, December 28th, 1814

Gifts arrive daily; it is almost as though Severus is making up for every Christmas—well—ever. My dresses, of course, with matching gloves, slippers, shawls, pelisses, coats, boots, the loveliest of bonnets, and anything else I could think of. New underclothes in the most delicate cotton and lace, more jewelry, and books (although when I will read them I haven't any idea). If he sends me much more, I will not have room for it.

* * *

Thursday, December 29th, 1814

The painter came to take sketches and apparently examine my coloring. He is a magical painter so the actual painting will be done at his studio over the next fortnight. My hair was particularly intriguing to him. Apparently Severus was adamant that it be 'properly represented'. I had to dress it in six different styles before he found satisfaction.

Overall, this has been a lovely week. On a less joyous note: my aunt, while pleased to be rid of me, is lamenting over all the things that I suddenly haven't time to do for her. I suggested a housekeeper and was promptly called a 'loose-pursed debutante'. I only pray that she doesn't have any other nieces or cousins that have fallen on similarly hard times available to be used.

* * *

Saturday, December 31st, 1814

Lavender Brown came by today to see if the rumors are true. Apparently, my marriage is turning into the Barnsley gossip of the new year, despite Severus's best efforts to keep it quiet. I imagine the headline: _Penniless orphan snares and seduces rich older war veteran_.

I wore one of my best new dresses in chocolate lawn, and my hair was held up by the most subtle of bronze combs in the shape of magnolias. I even wore the matching necklace and a shawl of the most delicate Spanish lace.

I admit to taking extra care to look particularly well cared for, remembering how she had recently treated my dear Ginny and her comments to me in the past regarding my own manner of dress and circumstances. She seemed, on the whole, to go from skeptical, to shocked, and lingered longest in jealousy before finally resolving into simpering flattery. If she thinks such behavior will win my confidences, she is sadly mistaken. I did, however, admit her to the wedding party in a moment of weakness. May I not live to regret it.

Madam Incroy returned for the final fitting of the wedding gown, and I have never seen a lovelier dress in all my life. I am so undeserving of this bounty.

* * *

Monday, January 2nd, 1815

I spent some time with the children today, before Severus arrived. My aunt and uncle have neglected to tell them what has been decided upon. I know it isn't my place, and my aunt would be quick to remind me of that, but I must say goodbye to them. I spent the early morning playing games with Thomas of the sort that a wild young boy loves and then spent the late morning doing the girls' hair and letting them try on my new gloves and shawls. At lunch I explained that I was going away. I was met with a surprising number of tears (even prim Fanny cried into her soup) and extractions of promises to visit some day. I attempted to be gentle in my responses, but I am not at all sure that my aunt and uncle will welcome me back to Granger House. Then there were hugs and kisses all around. I think my heart was breaking and will break anew when I leave for good on Wednesday.

Severus's servants come tomorrow to collect my trunks. My belongings have swollen enormously since our official engagement. I gave all of my old gowns to the servants to be made over or cut up and used for other projects. I have a much larger wardrobe now than I could ever have dreamt.

When Severus returned after lunch, he seemed preoccupied and ill at ease. I dared to question him slightly and was surprised to hear that he has been dealing with a matter of unpleasant business since before Christmas. He hinted that an old acquaintance had recently gotten into trouble.

He seemed very pleased with all of the preparations and informed me that his godson, who I must add _is_ named Draco after all, will be attending our small ceremony. I can hardly wait to lay eyes on him and see if he is as my dream showed him to me. Surely it is too great a coincidence.

Severus has decreed that we will be wed at one in the church; he added very seriously the words 'with all propriety' (as though I might think we would wed scandalously) and then return to Granger House where we will floo directly back to his estate. I can hardly wait, and yet, I am becoming quite nervous as things I had not thought of keep worrying at me, including how to run an estate, what Severus will expect from me, meeting his acquaintances, and also—I can scarcely write it—the wedding night. I won't ask my aunt, and my closest female companions are unwed.

But I will not despair; I will only cling to the hope that everything will be well. It will be as it has been since the beginning of time, will it not?

* * *

Wednesday, January 4th, 1815

It is early, the sun has not yet risen, and I am curled up for the last time on my window seat in this small and dreary room, counting the moments before Minerva and Ginevera arrive to dress me. Today, today, today. Oh Merlin, may my happiness be complete as I step into this great unknown.

* * *

_Edited for word order, grammar, punctuation, tense, capitalization, & spelling on September 5th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who is entertained sufficiently]._

* * *

_Madam Incroy's description of Hermione is lifted almost entirely from Jane Austen's __Pride and Prejudice__, Chapter 45._

_Banns were to be read for three Sundays prior in both parishes (if the bride and groom hailed from differing places); there are two kinds of licenses to marry to avoid banns being read (Common and Special) with differing costs. I will admit that the Special License is overused in Regency romance; however, with Snape's fears about Hermione's safety, I thought my use was defensible. _

* * *

_Warning, unrelated story time following! I once read a rather insipid romance novel (the name and author I will refrain from mentioning) that was based around the idea of a penniless governess being selected by an odiously rich marquees because he suddenly & irrevocably (& quite uncharacteristically from what I could gather of his temperament) decided he wanted children. He apparently found her loving treatment of his nasty sister's children to be desirable. Stop me if you've heard this one before. After all of that the book skipped over any mention of the supposedly loving and kindhearted girl actually saying goodbye to said children. I even reread several chapters to see if I had missed something. I have never been so disappointed in a heroine in all my life. Hermione is better than that. Fin._


	21. Glimpse: Laugh & Weep

**Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. **

* * *

She smoothed nervous, gloved hands over her silk gown, the material sliding easily over her fingers, soothing her. Minerva smiled down at the girl, looking quite fashionable in her own new gown. They were in the foyer of the chapel, awaiting Hermione's uncle.

Her aunt rearranged Hermione's veil for the hundredth time, her hands not the least bit gentle. "Oh, my dear girl, I knew from the first how it would be. You will be married; and we are released from minding you. I never had any doubts that it would end this way."

Hermione rolled her eyes, for she was not her aunt's dear girl and never had been.

Minerva turned to the doorway with a sigh of her own, knowing the truth of Hermione's aunt's designs and that she had had truly no part in bringing about the marriage. From her position, she missed the humiliating conversation that followed.

Hermione's aunt took seized her arm, hard enough to bruise, and with a furtive look directed towards Minerva, began to whisper urgently, "Hermione, about this evening, when he comes to you—"

Hermione covered her burning cheeks with her hand, horrified at the turn of the conversation.

"Don't struggle, dear; you must allow him to have his way—"

"Aunt, please..."

"The more you comply, the quicker it will end."

And then Minerva returned to Hermione's side, immune to the annoyed look Mrs. Granger gave her.

"Here is your uncle, dearest; many blessings to you, and may you both be very happy together." Minerva kissed her on both cheeks and gave her a gentle hug.

Her uncle beamed from the doorway, but it was a hollow joy, more pleased to be rid of her than pleased on her behalf. "Well it's time; at last, it's time."

But Hermione was determined to be well-pleased with her wedding and turned her eyes towards the sanctuary with a deep breath.

* * *

There are few words that can adequately describe the feelings of a bride when she is finally dressed in her finery, surrounded by her dearest friends and family, emerging for the last time a maiden. But there are no words for the pleasure-pain that she feels when she lifts her eyes to meet the gaze of her groom, waiting for her at the altar stairs.

His eyes were burning, his brow furrowed with an arresting intensity. Hermione felt her cheeks flame and her steps faltered. Her uncle was having none of it; he kept walking, her arm tight against his body.

Severus's warm hand closed around hers. He spared no glance at her uncle as he drew her to his side and mounted the steps with her. He towered over her, dark and solemn.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here together to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men, and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly." The officiate held the handfasting cord in his reverently folded hands.

Severus clasped her right hand as she passed her bouquet to Ginny. The priest wrapped the woven silver and gold cord around their wrists.

His eyes burned into hers as he recited his vows. Her name sounded like velvet on his lips. "I, Severus Tobias Snape, take thee, Hermione Jean Granger, to be my wedded wife, till death us depart, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

She swallowed and replied, "I, Hermione Jean Granger, take thee, Severus Tobias Snape, to be my wedded husband, till death us depart, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

All ceased to exist except the man who anchored her with his large, warm hands and black eyes. Her heart was just beginning to twist at his severe look when the corner of his mouth turned up and the light webbing of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. Her breath caught in a little gasp, for he had never looked so lovely to her.

"Forasmuch as Severus and Hermione have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands, I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together. Amen."

Severus led her down the first steps as a married couple, pausing on the last step to whisper in a low voice to the man who stood there. She glanced towards him, almost as an afterthought, and had to take a second look. It was Draco, the boy from her dream, platinum blond and pointy chinned, just as she remembered him. His eyes slipped passed Severus's face and he sent her a crooked smile. Surprised, she smiled back.

The next hour was a blur, and not even Ronald's scowl from the edge of the churchyard could dim her happiness. Severus lifted her into the open carriage, amid furs and warming stones. Draco kissed her fingers and promised to call on them soon. Ginny hugged her tightly, promising to write often and soon. Minerva wiped suspiciously bright eyes and looked as though she might hug an uncomfortable Severus at any moment. Hermione's own family looked torn between pleasure and envy.

Through the blur, all she could see were her husband's eyes, bright and warm.

* * *

A portion of the servants met them, and Severus introduced her to the butler, Austen, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Fairfax.

They ate a late wedding breakfast, alone, in a smaller chamber facing the east windows. The rising sun reflected across the snowy grounds. Hermione feasted on winter-sweet pears, smoky crumbling cheese, honey-spiced ham, and fruit tarts. Severus poured her a cup of bitter Arabian coffee, smiling at the strange faces it invoked as she tasted it. They finished with flutes of sweet and sparkling wine, and Severus toasted her as Mrs. Snape. She was all blushes and smiles.

After the meal, Severus swept her away to tour the vast home, beginning with the main apartments. She looked eagerly for familiar surroundings, but she was unacquainted with the first and second parlors and the dining room. "Did you build this house?"

"In a manner of speaking; I bought it very cheaply from a man in financial distress, but many of the improvements are my own. In fact, come and see the library. That will be sure to please you."

Eagerly she followed him; this was the moment of truth, to see if Spinner's End was as she knew it from her dreams. She forgot herself in her excitement, practically leading the way to the double doors. If Severus noticed, he made no comment, flinging wide the portal and presenting her with the haven.

It was a vast two floors of books under an arched ceiling. The shelves were linked by spiral staircases and ornate walkways, with rolling ladders scattered across the faces of the shelves. The late afternoon light streamed across the oriental rugs from the floor to ceiling windows.

Her breath caught in a happy sigh; it _was_ just as she remembered it. Her mind hurried through calculations and hypotheses. She twirled like a child, catching sight of her portrait opposite his.

"It is just as I remember it, except my portrait is here." She flicked her gaze towards him, begging him to understand her meaning.

He was watching her, barely hearing her words. But Hermione could not be disappointed, as in the next moment he held out his arms and called her to him by name.

It sounded so lovely on his lips, the syllables flowing in his dark voice.

She came to him without hesitation, her heart full. He folded her against his chest, arms cocooning her. She was surprised when she felt his fingers questing in her hair, freeing the veil and beginning to delicately pick out her hairpins. But he was her husband and she was his wife; surely there were to be no more barriers between them. She felt the whole mass, upon which Ginevera had spent over an hour, using even magic, come loose.

He sighed and, emboldened, Hermione returned his embrace, unthinkingly nuzzling his waistcoat.

They wandered deeper into the library, unashamed that their arms were still tangled together. It did not cross her mind to wonder how he knew just what books would interest her or which ones pertained to the research she had explored in her school days. Finally, when the shadows had lengthened and Hermione had long been settled against his side, surrounded by books, it was time for dinner.

At the door he embraced her again, more tentatively this time, although from her vantage point Hermione could not see his blush.

"I'll take you to your room so you may refresh yourself for dinner." There was a pause before he continued, softer. "Please—please leave your hair down and your wedding dress on."

She only nodded, relaxed in his embrace.

* * *

Severus held the door open that Hermione might step into her bedroom. It was furnished in warm woods. Hermione crossed to the huge windows, trailing her hands over the golden, velvet floor to ceiling drapes. She eased open the decorative inner shutters carved with Islamic floral designs. The tables were covered with lacquered boxes, ceramic statues and candles. Her feet sunk into the thick carpet. She glanced at her trunks, full of her new clothing, near a door she assumed opened into her dressing room. A huge bed filled the right wall, modestly covered in gold and cherry-red curtains.

She returned to Severus's side. With one pale hand, he reached out to touch her waterfall of hair. He twirled one finger in it, pulling a curl straight before letting it go.

After a long moment he spoke, motioning towards the room. "You may change anything you don't like."

"Whose room was this… you know… before?"

"It has never been used. I ordered the furnishings last week." He buried his fingertips into her curls.

"You mean you decorated it for me?" she breathed, examining the room with new interest.

"You seem to like crimson and gold."

She wandered again, realizing that he had chosen these colors for her. She touched a lamp, knowing that he selected it for her, a small statue of an owl in flight, a small volume of poetry on a side table, the jeweled edge of a comb. She smiled, treasured.

He retreated from the room, and she set about taming her hair and selecting evening jewelry.

Her jewel cases were tucked into a locking valise. She already knew what she wanted. Unclasping the delicate pearls she wore for her wedding, she replaced them with a slender, golden chain that dripped with small rubies, some dark crimson, some as fair as the coral rosebuds on her dress. Fishing out the last few pins, she shook out her glistening curls. Pulling a garnet-colored shawl around her shoulders, she smiled into the mirror.

She was finally Mrs. Snape.

* * *

Hermione resettled into the crimson chair underneath the arched ceiling, the candlelight reflecting off the golden flowers that decorated it. After the heavy main courses, the freshness of the white wine paired perfectly with ripe peaches from the conservatory. Severus was quiet, but his expression was more open than when he had graced the table at Granger House. On the whole, he had been more relaxed today than she could ever remember. After a few glasses of wine, Hermione was feeling blissful.

Austen, the butler, kept her glass filled. Unused to being doted on by attentive servants, she met his gaze shyly. His eyes were warm, even if his face stayed serene.

Severus cut her slice of the groom's cake that rested at his elbow. She nibbled a generous forkful, the moist fruitcake melting in her mouth. He did not speak; words would be stilted now, with his butler hovering so close. When conversation was inadequate, it would be better to remain silent.

* * *

She had never fought with such intensity as she wrestled the stubborn laces of her wedding dress. The knock at the door leading into Severus's room had her scurrying away from the looming bed.

"Come in…" she breathed, overcome with mortification.

Severus slipped into the room, his eyes flickering from her to the bed. Hermione's cheeks flamed. He wore only his shirt, open slightly at the neck and tucked into his breaches. The breadth of his shoulders made his hips look even more slender. His feet were bare. She swallowed.

"Is something amiss?" His deep voice washed over her.

Wishing she could melt into the sumptuous Oriental rug, she shook her head, no. There was a pause and then more slowly, she nodded her head, yes. Her eyes firmly fixed on her folded hands, she whispered, "My laces are knotted and I… I can't get them loose."

In a gentle voice, free of derision, he answered, "I am sorry. I had forgotten… I will secure you a lady's maid tomorrow." He took a step forward, seeming to gather his own courage. "Come, I will help you."

Still unable to meet his gaze, she crossed to him, lifting the free-curling mass of hair over her shoulder and presenting the back of her dress for his inspection. With gentle fingers, he opened the clasp of her necklace. His paused, as though studying her, his hands gently closing around her shoulders. She could feel the warmth of his palms through the fabric and the roughness of his thumbs where they brushed against her bare collarbones. She relaxed against his hands. Perhaps this would not be so awful after all.

Hermione sighed as he leaned forward, warm breath ghosting across her skin. His lips skimmed the curve where her neck gracefully joined her shoulder. His hair brushed softly across her skin. A moment later the tension shifted, his hands tightening around her.

Glancing behind her, she asked, "Is something wrong, Master Snape?"

"Hermione, do you know my given name?" His voice was rough.

Oh. How could she not? Her cheeks warmed. "Of course."

His fingers tightened again and his lips brushed the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Use it."

"Severus," she breathed.

"Nothing is wrong, Her-mi-on-e." He fiddled with the dress for but a moment before sighing and drawing his wand.

When the silk pooled around her ankles, she wished that she had the presence of mind to think of using magic. After such a long period in her uncle's house, perhaps she had begun to think as a Muggle after all.

He scooped her up gently, pausing as she kicked off her slippers with a giggle. Laying her down on the bed, he allowed his eyes to wander over her form. They darkened with desire that had Hermione's body humming.

When he tentatively touched the laces of her corset, his brow furrowed and he murmured, "How infuriating."

Her nervousness was beginning to return, but as he settled her among the pillows and leaned forward to kiss her gently, there was no time to worry. His touch was tentative and seeking at first, gentle and chaste. Of their own accord, her hands ghosted over his shoulders, to his neck, finally burrowing into his shoulder-length hair. The kiss deepened, his lips firm against hers.

As his fingers loosened her underclothes, she freed herself from his hair and sought the edge of his shirt, tugging and untucking it.

He caught her hands gently, pressing kisses against her palms and wrists. Her golden wedding band glinted in the candlelight, the five rubies set in a Maltese Cross pattern, shimmering.

"Leave it, dearest." His voice was rough, but his eyes were kind.

She melted into his embrace, trusting and affectionate.

* * *

She stirred against the silken sheets, curling into the warmth at her side. She rubbed her cheek into the solid heat of a linen-clad chest. Something rough brushed her cheek and she wrinkled her nose and shied away from the caress, her lashes fluttering as she woke. The curtains were drawn and it was dim in the haven of the bed.

Severus's face was very near and she found herself smiling slightly at his disheveled appearance. "Good morning. Is it morning?"

He nodded mutely, some emotion furrowing his brow and twisting his lips. With one hand, he brushed back his long hair and with the other he opened the curtain with a flick of his wrist. Wandlessly, he summoned a steaming china cup from the bedside table.

When she sat up, she realized her lack of proper bedclothes and tucked the sheet around her. Accepting the cup, she sipped the rich chocolate.

Severus turned away, his face blank and tight.

She watched him confusedly, picking up on his darkening mood.

He pushed himself out of the bed, gathering his clothing as he went. Were his hands shaking or was that a trick of the light? Hermione left her cup hovering above her pillow and crawled to the opening in the curtains.

"Severus?"

"Yes?" His voice was slightly strangled as he leaned on a chair, facing away from her.

"Is something wrong?" She was beginning to get truly worried.

He rounded the chair, holding the clothing before him like a shield. "No." His face twisted then, anguished and hollow.

Hermione gazed at him, trying to discern what was amiss. If not for the look of longing that passed over his sharp features, she might have begun to panic. Something warm blossomed in her chest for this man who was so well armored he could not speak.

She retreated back into the bed, thoughtful.

"I'll see you at breakfast," he called softly, and she heard the connecting door click shut.

Hermione was left with her chocolate and silence.

* * *

_Edited for clarity, punctuation, spelling, word order, period accuracy, capitalization, & general encouragement on September 12th, 2013 [courtesy of renaid, who has missed Austen]._

* * *

_This chapter covers chapters 26-30 of The Farce. I hope its scope helps dim the disappointment of it taking me three times as long to write it as I meant to. I move in early October and then have every confidence that I can return to a more regular posting schedule. _

_Austen is, of course, named after Jane Austen, to whom this story owes a great debt. _

_Alice Fairfax is the housekeeper of Thornfield in Charlotte Brontë's __Jane Eyre__._


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